by A. T Brennan
When she was standing in front of the door, she hesitated. She was nervous about seeing him again. He was obviously hurting and reaching out for help, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that she would do or say something wrong and make the situation even worse.
After a moment she pushed past her own issues and knocked.
“It’s open.”
She heard the muffled yell and hurried into his apartment. She wasn’t sure what she was expecting to see. Maybe a mess or a crime scene, or him with a broken leg, but not him sitting on the edge of his bed white as a ghost and shaking slightly.
He was wearing a pair of loose gray sweatpants and nothing else. There was blood on the material over his knee, and the outside of his wrist was scraped up.
“Tyler?” she asked as she put her purse on the table and paused. He looked up at her and his eyes were haunted. He looked broken.
“I’m sorry. I had no right to bother you.”
“If you need someone then I’m glad you did,” she said gently as she moved to stand a little closer to him. He looked so out of it she wasn’t sure how he would handle it if she got too close.
“Something happened to me,” he started as he looked up at her.
“What happened?”
“I was shot at.”
“What?” She hurried over to his side and dropped to her knees in front of him. “What happened?”
“I’m a security guard. I was at a site and I heard something in the back lot. I thought it was kids or vandals, but there were two men holding guns to the head of a third. They saw me and I bolted. I heard the shots, looked over my shoulder, and he was dead. They’d executed him.”
“Oh my god.” She reached out and put her hand on his, not sure if he would want to be touched, but he just grabbed her hand and held it tight.
“They chased me. I ran and they shot at me. I hit the ground, had to roll, and then I was at the door. I got it open, but then they shot the door.” He pulled her hand up and pressed it against the back of his head.
There was a long, straight scab on the back of his head.
“It was a ricochet. The bullet hit the door and then grazed me.”
“Are you okay? What do you need?”
He just looked at her.
“How can I help you?”
“After what I said to you—”
“That’s in the past,” she cut in, shaking her head. “You went through something horrific. What do you need from me?”
“Ground me? I’m having a hard time staying here, if that makes sense.”
“You keep remembering things? Keep getting pulled into the memories?”
He nodded.
“Of course. Anything else?”
“Just be here, please. I’ve been alone since the police dropped me off. I feel like I’m going crazy.”
“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Have you eaten?”
“Not since yesterday.”
“How about I make you something? Like maybe a sandwich? Then I’ll look after your arm and check out that knee. After we’ll just hang out, do whatever you want or nothing at all.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course.” She smiled and squeezed his hand. “You want to watch TV or something?”
“I don’t know what I’ll see. What sounds there might be.” He shook his head.
“Sounds trigger it?”
“Loud ones.” He nodded. “I was pretty much over it, but now it’s like it was five years ago. I feel so out of control—”
“It’s okay.” She gripped his hand, cutting him off so he didn’t get hysterical. “How about you just sit here? Do you have a water bottle, cooking oil, and food coloring?”
“Bottle and oil yes. No coloring.”
“Pen or a marker?”
“The small drawer next to the sink.” He nodded toward the kitchen. “The bottles are in the recycling and the oil is in the cupboard beside the stove.”
“Perfect. I’ll be right back.” She patted his hand and then stood up.
He watched as she took a bottle out of the recycling and filled it three quarters of the way with water. She pulled an old permanent maker out of the drawer and pulled off the top. She dipped the marker into the water and tilted the bottle to make sure the tip was submerged. After a moment the water turned gray, and she pulled out the marker and tossed it in the trash. Then she filled the rest of the bottle with cooking oil, leaving a few inches at the top, and screwed on the cap.
“I might not be a nurse, but I’m pretty sure I’ll puke if I drink this,” he said as she handed him the bottle.
“Shake it.”
He shook the bottle and they watched as the oil separated and bubbled up in the water.
“When you feel like things are getting out of control and grounding doesn’t work, or you need a change, then shake the bottle and watch as it settles. It’ll soothe you.”
They watched as the oil formed into large blobs and slowly started to separate from the water.
He looked up at her. “How did you know about this?”
“They used to work for me. How about that sandwich?”
He just nodded and watched as she headed back into the kitchen.
The bottle was a lot like the two-toned hourglass they used to make him use at the hospital. When he was getting angry or anxious he was supposed to turn the hourglass and watch as the colored sand fell and filled the glass. It had worked to an extent, but the bottle was better. It was a little wilder, more fluid, and less predictable. It was easier to get lost in than falling sand.
He looked between the bottle and Kenzie as she moved around his kitchen, fixing him a sandwich with whatever she found in the fridge. Her movements were smooth and she seemed comfortable as she moved around the small space. She pulled a water bottle out of the fridge and brought him the snack.
“Here,” she said with a smile as she handed him the plate and the bottle of water.
“Thanks,” he said as he put the bottle down and took the plate from her. “Sit with me?”
She nodded and sat next to him, waiting as he ate the sandwich. He drained about half the bottle then offered her some. She drank down half of what was left and he finished it.
“Why did you come?” he asked as he put the plate and bottle down on the floor and looked at her. After how he’d treated her, he was surprised she hadn’t ignored his call.
“Because I know what rock bottom sounds like, and I didn’t want you to get to that point,” she said simply.
He just stared at her.
“We parted on weird terms, that’s true, but you’re still a person and you needed help. If you thought of me and reached out to me then I wasn’t going to turn away from you. What kind of person would that make me?”
“About what I said, or didn’t say—”
“Like I said, it’s in the past.” She shook her head. “Let’s let go of the past right now and focus on the present.”
“Thank you.” He nodded and leaned back on his hands.
He couldn’t believe what a good person she was. When he’d been sitting at his table trying to keep himself grounded he’d needed to call someone. He’d been trapped in a loop, seeing his best friend dying right next to him, replaying the moment Evan died over and over again in his head, and he couldn’t break the cycle.
He’d started to call Olivia, but had stopped before he tapped her contact info. He couldn’t bother her with this. She had her own family, and Rick had told him he didn’t appreciate when he would pull her away from family time to deal with his issues.
He couldn’t call his parents. His mother could barely handle talking to him about anything that wasn’t happy and shiny. His father tried, but he never knew what to say. And he didn’t want to worry them more than they already did.
He knew his family worried that he was suicidal. Of the men who had come home from the wars, some were broken beyond repair and suicide among veterans was incredibly high. Several of the men he�
�d served with had ended their own lives years, even a decade after they’d left the service. It was an epidemic, and more had to be done to help these soldiers before they got to the point where they felt they had no other option. It wasn’t the coward’s way out as many people said. It was the only solution they could think of, and whether they died fighting in the desert or in their own home, it was still a loss and it still devastated their loved ones.
He’d only gotten to that point once. Eight months after his discharge he’d been sitting in his apartment alone and drunk. He hadn’t talked to anyone in weeks, and he’d gotten stuck in a loop of flashbacks. He’d seen the worst of his tours flashing through his memories like waking nightmares, and he’d thought it was the only way to make it stop.
He’d gotten his gun out of the locked case, loaded it and put the barrel in his mouth. He’d been about to count down when the taste of the metal had registered, and he’d been shocked into reality.
The next day he’d gotten rid of his gun to keep the temptation out of reach, and he’d never told anyone what he’d almost done. After that incident he’d been able to deal with his traumas better and hadn’t considered suicide again, but he knew a lot of vets had lost that battle, and even more would before the end.
As he’d been staring at his phone he realized that he had no one outside of his sister. He had a few casual friends—guys he saw at the gym or old military buddies, but the first was not a group he would go to for emotional support, and while the latter would understand, he didn’t want to burden any of them. They were all dealing with their own lives and demons.
He had a phone full of women’s numbers, but not a single one was someone he would lean on, or think to lean on. They were lays, simple as that. None of them were more than a body to fuck and he hadn’t connected with any of them or even tried to keep in contact after their dates were over.
Kenzie had been the only person he could think of. They way she’d talked, how she’d mentioned her own battles and what she’d seen in her grandfather made him think she had experience dealing with old traumas. The kindness she’d shown him, and the strength he’d seen in her had stuck with him. She was the only person he wanted to talk to, and he’d just picked up the phone and called her. When her voicemail had clicked on and he’d began to talk he realized that he had no right to call her, not after how they’d parted ways. So he’d hung up and resigned himself to being alone and trying to deal with everything by himself, the way he always did.
He’d been shocked when she’d called him back, and when she’d offered to come over he’d been floored.
Now she was there, sitting with him, making him something to eat, and helping him. He didn’t deserve her help.
“Tyler,” she started as she reached for his hand.
He took her hand in his and gripped it tightly, letting her talk.
“Tonight you need to focus on the present and forget about the past. Forget about what you’ve been through, and forget about what happened to you today. I know that’s nearly impossible, but if you can focus on the present then your mind can process what’s happening to you. Hopefully it will give you some clarity.”
“I don’t know how to do that right now,” he admitted.
She just turned his hand over and looked at the scrape on his arm.
“They cleaned me up at the site. They broke open in the shower.”
“This isn’t too bad. It might leave a bit of a scar, but it should heal fine. Your knee?”
He pulled his pant leg up and she checked out the scrape on his leg. It ran down his shin, right up over his knee and onto his thigh, but it was superficial.
“This might need some gauze tomorrow, but it should be fine as long as you don’t break open the scabs again.”
“Honestly, I don’t even feel them right now.”
“Are you tired?” she asked as he pulled down his pant leg.
“Yes, but I’m terrified of what I’m going to dream about.”
“Do you like baseball?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Let’s find a game, someone has to be playing. We’ll watch the game and talk strategy, if you think you can keep up,” she added with a grin.
“I think I can keep up.” He laughed, a little of his cockiness slipping back into his voice.
“We’ll see,” she warned as she stood up. “Baseball is kinda my thing.”
“We’ll see.” He half-grinned as he stood with her and they headed to his couch. She sat on the far cushion as he flipped through the guide until he found a baseball game.
He sat down and looked at her as she sat on the other side of the couch.
“Sit with me?” he asked softly. He needed to feel her body and her warmth. As much as he needed her to help him ground himself, he also wanted to hold her because it would be nice to feel her again.
She blushed prettily and slid over so she was leaning against him. He draped his arm over her and leaned to the side so he could feel a little more of her weight against him. She felt wonderful, and the rhythmic rising of her shoulders under his arm was very soothing.
They settled in to watch the game. It was getting late, it was almost nine o’clock so there wasn’t much of a game left, but before long they were talking strategy, calling pitches and discussing what they would do if they were the coaches or players.
When the game was over he just time shifted to another and they watched that one, doing the same thing.
When it was close to midnight he couldn’t fight his fatigue any longer and started to yawn.
“Tired?”
“I don’t think I can stay awake much longer,” he admitted.
“Why don’t you get into bed?”
“I think I need about half a bottle of whiskey to ensure that I don’t dream,” he said, only half kidding.
“Does it ever help?” she asked, looking right at him.
“No.”
“Come on. It’s time to sleep.”
“I’m afraid of what I’ll see,” he said as she stood and reached down for his hand.
“I know. If you want I can stay here,” she offered.
“You don’t work tomorrow?”
“I’m on vacation.” She grinned.
“You don’t mind?”
“Of course not.” She smiled again and tugged him slightly so he stood with her. “If you dream I’ll be here. You don’t have to go through this alone.”
“Thank you,” he said as she led him to the bed.
They stepped apart and he stripped off his sweatpants until he was in his boxer briefs, which he’d thankfully put on that day. He went to one of the bins and pulled out a white shirt and tossed it to her.
“You want pants too?” he asked. “I might have something you could wear.”
“The shirt is fine.” She smiled shyly and took a deep breath.
He could see she was struggling with feeling self-conscious, and he respectfully turned away from her. This wasn’t a sexual situation, but he could understand how she would feel vulnerable and exposed undressing in front of him.
He waited until she told him she was ready before he turned back to her. The shirt was big on her and hung a few inches down on her thighs. She might have been there to comfort him as a friend, but as his eyes swept over her his body began to tighten.
He mentally cursed himself and focused on calming his libido. The last thing she needed to see was him popping a boner right now.
They climbed into bed and settled on the pillows.
“Do you want to leave the light on?” she asked as she looked over at him.
“The lamp, if you don’t mind,” he said as he nodded to the lamp near the couch.
“Of course.” She smiled and waited while he reached up and turned off the main light.
When the light was off it was dark enough they could sleep, but the room was still bathed in a soft glow.
“Kenzie?” he asked as he turned to face her.
“Yes?”
“Would it be crossing a line to ask if I can hold you?” he asked almost timidly. He felt that he was crossing a line, but he really needed to feel her body against his if he had any hope of sleeping.
She didn’t answer him, she just slid closer, nestling her body against his as he slipped his arm under her so he could pull her close.
“Goodnight, Tyler,” she said softly as she snuggled into his chest.
“Goodnight, Kenzie.”
* * *
Kenzie was jerked out of sleep by a loud cry and a body thrashing around in the bed next to her. Instinctively she rolled over and checked on Tyler. He was trapped in a nightmare. He was shouting and thrashing around and she had two choices—she could either shout at him to try to wake him up, or she could grab him.
She knew that grabbing him was dangerous. He could hurt her, but shouting was the worst thing she could do to someone who was triggered by noise. She took a deep breath and shifted so she could grab him by the shoulders.
“Tyler, it’s okay. You’re safe,” she said quietly as his eyes flew open.
He instinctively reacted as he was jerked awake and trapped in that moment between being asleep and fully aware. He grabbed her and threw her down on the bed as he rolled onto her, trapping her body under his. One hand reached up for her throat as the other pinned down one of her arms.
She should have been terrified of him, but she knew what was happening. He was still trapped in his dream and didn’t even see her. All he saw was a threat, and he was reacting to the dream.
“You’re safe, Tyler. It’s over,” she said softly just as his hand began to close over her throat.
Her voice seemed to snap him out of his dream. His hand stopped and he shifted so it rested it on the upper part of her chest as he shook his head.
“Kenzie?” he asked as he looked down at her. “I’m sorry—”
“It’s okay,” she cut him off as she looked up at him. “Take a moment to get your bearings. Ground yourself if you have to.”
He pulled in a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, not moving off of her.
He counted to ten softly and then counted to ten again. When he opened his eyes and looked at her he was calmer.